


Valentine's Day

by paroxferox



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Everyone is unhappy, F/M, Pepper and Tony are essentially doomed to fail, This started as an attempt at fluff, Tony is a food snob, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paroxferox/pseuds/paroxferox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The really important thing for Pepper is that Tony is trying. Honestly, with Tony, that's all that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god this is what passes as "fluff" for me. Desperate attempts at writing something sweet backfired horribly.

The restaurant Tony takes her to on Valentine’s Day is too expensive, too contemporary, too  _everything_. And it’s  _so perfectly Tony_ , she can’t help but laugh.

They say,  _the prix-fixe is cheaper and more evocative of the dining experience we want to create here_ , but money doesn’t matter to Tony Stark, who casually ignores the fixed-menu and orders a-la-carte  _because he can_ , not even because he’s trying to impress Pepper, but because it’s the kind of thing Tony does. She wonders idly, as she turns the glass of white wine over in her fingers, watching him suspiciously sample some small-plate  _thing_  that the chef-owner proudly announces earned him a Michelin star, if he even knows what day it is. She had simply mentioned wanting to go out for the night, and Tony had acquiesced, in the only way he knows how. Probably JARVIS told him. But Tony doesn’t listen, so she really can’t be certain.

Tony talks about food like someone who  _almost_ , but  _doesn’t quite_  get it, and she watches the way the chef – a tall, lanky man who is clearly less interested in  _talk_  than he is in  _endorsement_  – suppresses a wince at a misused word but says nothing. Her lips twitch, and when he asks her how her food is she gives an opaque little smile, answers “Fine,” and leaves it at that. She likes food, but she doesn’t like  _pretension_. She lives and breathes expensive taste, in part because she has to, but she’s never had much of a soft spot for things like  _molecular gastronomy_  or  _haute cuisine_. She’d rather eat something delicious in a restaurant where the owner doesn’t hover anxiously over her, where the  _food_ , rather than the  _experience_ , is what matters. But Tony made the reservations – Tony only understands two kinds of food: pretentious restaurant fare and terrible takeaway dinners – and he’s trying to make the evening good. He’s  _trying_. That’s enough for her.

The courses take forever, the atmosphere is oppressively chic, and the food is strange and unmemorable. Pepper has more wine than the tiny portions can really support, and when the meal is over and Tony is finished rubbing elbows with whichever such-and-such he happened to run into (she avoids socializing with her own business acquaintances outside of work when she can, but Tony is  _born_  to schmooze, and she’s powerless to stop him), she finds herself just a little off-balance as she tugs him toward the door.

There are cameras on the sidewalk, of course – Tony’s a celebrity, and Pepper hasn’t exactly gotten off scot-free since the Incident, either. But Tony waves them off irritably and Pepper ignores them except to nail the instep of one particularly aggressive paparazzo with her stiletto. She waves it off as an accident, apologizes prettily, and she can feel Tony’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. It’s a reminder – Tony Stark doesn’t always treat the press with respect. The cameras fall back, regroup, and some begin to edge in new directions; there are plenty of celebrities in New York who are less likely to cause physical harm. Tony’s pace quickens, and Pepper stumbles for a moment as she lengthens her stride to keep up.

She’s drunk. She can see the fondness in his eyes as she falls against him, can feel his arm slip around her waist to support her. “I should call the car,” he says to her, a smile tugging at his lips, and instead of answering, she kisses him. They stay like that for a moment, Tony’s arm still around her waist as he leans up to kiss her (she’s taller than him in heels; if it bothers him, he’s never let on), both her hands on his face. He tastes like red wine and the too-expensive mint sorbet the meal had ended with.

“I can walk,” she murmurs when they break apart, but Tony is already dialing. She laughs, a little shamefaced, aware of the wine flush riding high on her cheeks. Her face is warm, even in the February chill. Tony smiles at her, brushes her hair fondly back from her face, and leans up to kiss her again.

“We’ll take the car, Pep,” he says, and Pepper decides not to argue.

They walk while they wait, breath trailing white behind them, silent and comfortable. Tony isn’t talking, and it’s strange, but every time Pepper steals a glance at him, he’s watching her face. He smiles when they make eye-contact. For once, the silence is comfortable rather than oppressive or yearning. When the car pulls alongside them, Tony opens the door for her. From anyone else, she might have bridled, but with Tony, it’s a gesture of goodwill. An expression of genuine thoughtfulness. As she climbs into the car, he’s right behind her. She settles herself, and he presses a kiss to her temple, murmuring something she can’t quite hear – three syllables that clench around her heart and flood warmth through her body.

For once, they’re all right. Something inside Pepper twists bitterly at the realization that  _this is how it used to be._ She wants it back – wants  _this_ back. She shivers a little, pressing close to Tony. His arms curve around her instinctively, their lips meet, and Pepper pushes away all that negativity. It’s Valentine’s Day. He’s trying –  _they’re_  trying. For once, things are going well.

_Don’t ruin it, Potts._

Maybe, for tonight, they can pretend they’re normal. Just for the evening, Tony doesn’t scream himself awake in the middle of the night, and Pepper isn’t wearing her emotions to the bone trying to keep them together. They’re happy, they’re  _normal_. No one’s having a panic attack, and no one’s kidnapped. They’re not fighting anything. No trauma, no anger, no danger. Just Virginia Potts and Tony Stark: Earth’s Mightiest Power Couple. For now, as Tony presses his lips to her collarbone and slides his hand up her skirt, as Pepper murmurs his name and tilts her head back, as they shift on the seat so Pepper’s lying down and Tony undoes his belt, they’re all right.

Everything is all right.


End file.
